


a new spring breeze

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Sex Pollen, Trans Male Character, spoilers for winter in hieron generally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23628208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: Arrell joins Alyosha and unwittingly sets off a chain reaction through Hieron.
Relationships: Adaire Ducarte/Hella Varal, Alyosha/Arrell (Friends at the Table), Ephrim/Throndir (Friends at the Table), Fero Feritas/Lem King, Hadrian/Rosana (Friends at the Table), Samot/Samothes (Friends at the Table)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	a new spring breeze

_ Spring Fever _

Arrell pushed through the vines. The air was thick with pollen, giving the air a yellow haze, lit by the weak sunlight that made its way through the foliage above him. He glanced over his shoulder, somewhat unnerved to see that the Spring plants had shifted behind him to cover the path he’d made.

Still, no matter. More likely than not it meant he was getting closer to the forge.

Closer to Alyosha.

The vines in front of him slithered, snake-like, curling around his ankle. Arrell bent to free himself, shrugging off another vine as it attempted to curl around his shoulder. He felt one at his waist, not so much binding him as it was pulling him forward, closer to the writhing mass of vines. Arrell swore, struggling against the plant’s hold on him, gritting his teeth as he braced for whatever end the Spring held for him.

He felt the vines press against him for a moment before they released him, sliding away from his body.

Arrell heard the sound of a hammer. He opened his eyes, his jaw dropping open at the sight of Alyosha in front of him, his eyes fixed on Arrell as he brought the hammer down again. Vines sprouted from the hammer’s blow, curling around Alyosha’s legs like an affectionate cat before moving away, into the thick greenery that surrounded them. Some of them remained with Alyosha, joining the other small plants that grew curled into his hair and clothing.

“I admit, tutor, I did not expect that I would see you again,” said Alyosha, his voice quiet.

“Nor did I.” Arrell paused. “I did not think that you would want to.”

“And still you sought me out?”

“I… this new Spring is a curious thing, I wished to study it,” said Arrell.

“I see,” said Alyosha.

Arrell’s hands flexed at his sides, and he took a step forward. The plants closest to Alyosha rose up, leaning towards Arrell as though to form a shield. Arrell stopped, holding up his hands.

“Alyosha I-” Arrell opened his mouth, then shut it again.

Alyosha huffed a laugh. “I do not believe I have ever seen you speechless tutor.”

“It is you who makes me that way, and often,” said Arrell, “I find I am out of practise in hiding it.”

Alyosha’s face softened, the plants drawing back, clearing a path between them. Arrell took a step forwards, and another, until he was standing on the opposite side of the anvil to Alyosha. Alyosha let his hammer rest between them, holding it loosely in his hands as he studied Arrell’s face.

Arrell fought against the urge to look away, forcing himself to meet Alyosha’s gaze, trying to convey with his eyes what he had never been able to put forth with his words. Alyosha took a deep breath in, lifting a hand to brush his fingertips against the jagged tear along Arrell’s jaw.

“A trifle,” said Arrell. “It hardly matters.”

Alyosha’s lips quirked into a soft smile. “It does, but perhaps the discussion can wait for another time.”

He cupped Arrell’s cheek in his hand. Arrell’s eyes fluttered shut, unbidden, as he leant into Alyosha’s touch. He felt his eyes prickle as long-forgotten emotions rose in his chest.

Alyosha sighed. “Look at me.”

Arrell forced his eyes open, chest aching as he looked upon Alyosha’s well-loved face, nearer to him than they had been for many years and with an expression that Arrell had not thought he would ever see again. His chest ached sharply, a sensation Arrell had not had in a long time, even before his death. His hands flexed at his sides, itching to reach towards Alyosha, to pull him close.

“Alyosha, I… I have missed you,” said Arrell, “I have been… I have not felt like myself since we have been apart.”

Alyosha let out a slow breath. “Oh… Oh, Arrell…”

Alyosha leant forward, the hand on Arrell’s cheek guiding him forwards. Their lips met over the anvil, soft and light at first until Alyosha sighed, letting go of the hammer to reach for Arrell’s hand. Even the simple sensation of their fingers tangling together was enough to make Arrell feel as if his chest had cracked open, the ache of it so sharp inside him.

He felt something slide around his ankle, breaking off the kiss to look down at the vine winding its way around his leg. Alyosha tipped his head back up, his gaze soft as he looked down at Arrell.

“Do not pay any mind to it.”

He leant forward again to capture Arrell’s lips, guiding Arrell around the anvil until their bodies were almost touching. Arrell broke off, swallowing hard as he looked up at Alyosha. There were flowers in his hair, along his body, that Arrell was sure had not been there before, the scent of them as intoxicating as the sight of Alyosha was.

Alyosha smiled at him, his hands sliding around Arrell’s waist. “Dear tutor. I have missed you too.”

Arrell leant forward, pressing his face to the crook of Alyosha’s neck for a moment. He took a deep breath, Alyosha’s hand stroking along his back making him feel aware of the heat of the forge for the first time. He felt a vine along his side, sliding underneath his robes, and he shuddered.

“Alyosha, what…”

Alyosha cupped his cheek, leaning forwards until he was close enough to murmur the words against Arrell’s lips. “Do not mind them. They love you, as I do.”

Arrell kissed him, feeling the heat of the forge move inside of him, gasping as the other plants of the Spring joined the first, yellow pollen streaking over his robes. Alyosha smiled, the touch of his skin burning Arrell as he finally slid a hand beside the vines to touch Arrell’s bare skin. Arrell shuddered, a high, keening sound escaping him. He felt his face flush, and he tried to look away, only for Alyosha to catch his gaze.

“Don’t,” said Alyosha, “I want to see you.”

Arrell let out a long breath, swallowing hard. He nodded, his head swimming and body thrumming with heat. Alyosha hummed, pulling him close once again, his hands going to the fastenings of Arrell’s robes.

He and the vines made quick work of it, leaving Arrell bare under his gaze. The vines curled around him still, holding him still as Alyosha stoked along his skin, his touch light and teasing. Arrell whined, trying to arch into Alyosha’s touch. The perfume from the flowers tangled around Alyosha’s body was overwhelming.

Alyosha smiled. “Come now, we have not seen each other in so long. Let me take my time with you.”

“But I wish to take my time with  _ you _ ,” Arrell managed.

Alyosha’s smile widened. “And you will. But for now, indulge me a little.”

Arrell had no choice but to let him, the heat in his body building with every small touch. He felt his body begin to shake, only kept upright by the Spring holding him. Alyosha made a small gesture and the vines relaxed, guiding Arrell down. Alyosha blessedly followed, his arms bracketing either side of Arrell’s face, filling Arrell’s vision with him alone.

His hands flexed, gripping the Spring plants underneath him. “For all that I have wronged you, I hope you will have mercy on me.”

In answer, Alyosha kissed him, pressing him back into the soft clover. He felt the flowers tangled around Alyosha press against him, their nectar sticky against his skin. Alyosha shuddered, making a soft sound into Arrell’s mouth as he deepened the kiss, driving the last remains of coherent thought from Arrell’s mind.

From there, time became a blur of heat and sensation - the vines twisting, holding him tight; the fabric of Alyosha’s robes against his bare skin; Alyosha’s hands finding his, their fingers as tangled together as their bodies; the ache in his chest softening into warmth under Alyosha’s gaze; the flush across Alyosha’s skin as he finally,  _ finally _ , moved to straddle Arrell; the slow movement of their bodies together as Alyosha rode him.

Arrell strained against the vines, his hands flexing. “Please. Let me- let me  _ touch _ you, please-”

The vines slid away, and Arrell reached clumsily for Alyosha, drawing him into a kiss as his other hand slid between their bodies. Alyosha moaned into his mouth, the sound of it striking heat through Arrell. The motion of their bodies lost its rhythm, both of them drawing closer to the edge. Arrell fastened his movements, feeling Alyosha clench around him before he let go of himself, clutching at Alyosha’s shoulder.

Alyosha guided him back down, laying his head on Arrell’s chest as they came back to themselves. Arrell stoked a hand along Alyosha’s side, watching the small cluster of flowers in Alyosha’s hair slowly close. He brushed the hair back from Alyosha’s face and Alyosha looked up, pressing a light kiss to his lips before he settled back.

Arrell let out a breath, looking up at the leaves above them, motes of Spring pollen drifting through the air.

  
  
  


_ Home Sweet Home _

Rosana opened the window of their small kitchen, taking a deep breath of the fresh spring air. She smiled to herself as she set about baking, humming to herself. Hadrian would be back soon from the market. It would be nice to have some time together after the events of the past few weeks.

He passed by the window before he reached the front door, smiling as he caught sight of her. Rosana smiled back, laughing a little as he waved.

“Did you walk through a field?” said Rosana.

“What?”

Rosana gestured towards him and he looked down, blinking in surprise as if noticing the yellow streaks of pollen for the first time.

“Oh,” said Hadrian, “I guess there are a lot of flowers out now.” He brushed a hand over his shirt, making a face as the pollen stayed stubbornly on the fabric.

“It’ll wash out,” said Rosana.

Hadrian nodded, continuing inside and coming into the kitchen to set his basket down on their small table. He stepped towards her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Rosana tilted her head to return the kiss, relaxing into the warmth of his body despite the oddly warm weather.

“How was the market?”

“Busy,” said Hadrian, “I bumped in Ben while I was there, he said he wanted to have lunch with Blue J today but he’d be home for dinner.”

He slid his arms around her waist, watching her hands work the dough the way he’d done ever since they were courting. She leant her head against his, catching sight of his smile out of the corner of her eye. With his arms around her it was almost too warm in their small kitchen but she felt unwilling to step out of his embrace, instead tilting her face to the side to press another light kiss to his lips, her touch lingering too long for their ordinary chasteness.

Hadrian inhaled sharply. Rosana’s pulse jumped at the sound and she turned towards him to deepen the kiss. Hadrian returned it hungrily, following her lips as she leaned back to take a breath. She turned in his arms, her hands leaving streaks of flour along his clothes as she ran her hands down his back. Hadrian leaned into her touch, pressing her against the counter, moaning into her mouth as she palmed his ass.

She could feel him hardening against her, grinning into the kiss as she slid her hands under the hem of his shirt. Hadrian gasped, his hips rolling against her’s before he jerked back, his face flushed.

“I- Sorry, you were in the middle of something, I-”

Rosana silenced him with a kiss, reaching behind herself to grab a bowl and set it over the dough she’d been working.

“It needs to rest,” said Rosana, “I’ll just have to find something else to occupy my hands for an hour.”

Hadrian’s hands clutched at her waist as he let out a shuddering breath. “I, uh. We do have the afternoon to ourselves, too.”

“We do,” said Rosana. “Did you have anything in mind?”

She leant forward, deepening the kiss between them slowly, feeling the heat within her build to match the air around them. She felt Hadrian lift her and slid her arms around the back of his neck, held steady as he carried her to their bedroom.

He set her down on the bed carefully, as though she were something precious and fragile, as he had always done. Despite the urgent heat, Rosana felt something in her chest uncurl at the expression on his face, flushed and nervous and wanting. She reached forward, tangling their fingers together and tugging him down on the bed beside her.

Hadrian fell somewhat clumsily on top of her and she huffed a laugh. He smiled down at her, melting into her kiss before he shifted, kissing down her neck, lifting her shirt to kiss along her belly, his hands going, slightly hesitant, to the hem of her skirts.

“Can I…?”

Rosana reached forward, cupping his cheek in her hand. He pressed a kiss to her palm.

“Yes,” said Rosana.

Hadrian slid lower on the bed, kissing each inch of newly-exposed skin as he lifted her skirts. She flattened them as they bunched at her waist, wanting to see his face as he drew closer to her, his eyes closed as he pressed a kiss to her opening.

Rosana let out a shuddering breath as Hadrian enthusiastically mouthed over her, shuddering as she raked a hand over his scalp. She repeated the motion, feeling a jolt of heat at the sight of him overwhelmed, watching as his hips rolled against their bed.

“Hadrian,” said Rosana, her hand curling around the back of his head, “Touch yourself, too.”

Hadrian groaned, the sound of it buzzing into her. She could feel the moment that he wrapped a hand around himself, his breath hot against her. Rosana watched him, feeling him work her into time with his hand, bringing them both closer to the edge.

She slid a hand under her shirt, pinching her nipple as her other hand clutched Hadrian’s shoulder, wanting to feel him as he shuddered, holding himself off for her, being so good, just for her-

Her body arched as she came, her fingers digging into the meat of Hadrian’s shoulder. Dimly, she could hear him moan, mouthing kisses along the inside of her thigh as he followed her over the edge.

She tugged at his shoulder and he followed her, flopping boneless beside her and pressing a kiss to her shoulder. She kissed the top of his head, letting out a long breath.

“Oh,” said Hadrian, “the window’s open.”

Rosana turned her head. The little window in their room still had the curtains closed from that morning, a gap in the cloth blown open.

“Good to get the air in here,” said Rosana, “it’s warm today.”

Hadrian hummed, pressing another, more lingering kiss to her shoulder. Rosana raised a hand, petting along his shoulder and turning towards him to kiss him. They did have the rest of the afternoon, after all.

  
  
  


_ In The Tower, Aching _

The Spring breeze drifted upwards, winding around the high tower of the Last University, ruffling the carefully set-out pages across Ephrim’s desk. Ephrim let out a huff of breath, leaning forwards in his chair to stop them from being blown away. He frowned, drawing his hand back and making a face at the pollen covering his palm.

There was a knock at his door. 

“Hey,” came Throndir’s voice, “You busy?”

Ephrim eyed the half-filled account book on his desk, the reports tracking their stores, the harvests, the letters he was half-way through answering. “No, come in.”

Throndir smiled at him as he entered, and Ephrim felt something in his chest clench at the sight of it. Throndir’s gaze drifted to the desk between them and he raised his eyebrows at Ephrim.

“If this is what you consider not busy I’d hate to see what busy is,” said Throndir, “Are you sure you have time to talk?”

Ephrim managed a tired smile. “Honestly I could use the break. What’s up?”

“It’s not really urgent,” said Throndir, “Just a couple of people today have reported that they thought it, uh, that it was hot today? They don’t seem to have fevers, but I thought maybe if it turns out to be something down the line, you know, better that you already know about it, right?”

Ephrim let out a breath. “I guess, although if they’re not actually sick then it’s probably not something we need to worry about now, right?”

Throndir shifted on his feet. “Yeah, I guess.”

Ephrim frowned. ”Was there… something else?”

“No, I just, uh-” Throndir ran a hand through his hair, a light flush on his cheeks. “I guess I just kind of wanted an excuse to come see how you were doing.”

Ephrim felt his own cheeks flush to match Throndir’s. “I thought I told you, you don’t have to keep making up excuses to come see me.”

Throndir looked down, a blush still bright on his cheeks. Ephrim stepped out from behind his desk, reaching forward to put a hand on Throndir’s shoulder.

“I just know you’re busy,” mumbled Throndir, “I don’t want to make things harder for you.”

“You never do,” said Ephrim, “I always want to see you.”

Throndir looked up, meeting Ephrim’s gaze, and Ephrim felt his cheeks flush with new heat. Maybe there was something going around after all. He went to pull back his hand but Throndir reached up, covering Ephrim’s hand with his own. His skin felt cool in comparison to Ephrim’s, the difference so stark Ephrim flinched. Throndir blanched, his hand dropping to his side. He stepped back, looking away again.

“Sorry,” said Throndir.

Ephrim stepped forward again, this time putting his hands on both of Throndir’s shoulders. “No, it’s okay I- Your hand was just cold, that’s all, I-”

Throndir looked up, frowning. “Are you okay? You look a little…”

Ephrim swallowed. “I guess I do feel a little warm, but it’s- otherwise I feel fine. I feel normal.”

“Are you sure?” said Throndir, “You’re just-”

This time it was Ephrim who looked away. “It’s nothing.”

Throndir stepped towards him, his voice soft. “Ephrim. If it’s bothering you, it’s not nothing.”

“It’s not bothering me, it’s…”

Ephrim trailed off, not sure how to put into words the swirling feeling in his chest whenever Throndir was around. The urge to pull him close was almost overwhelming, especially when Throndir was right in front of him, so close to Ephrim. It felt even more intense than usual, combining with the heat, making Ephrim’s head swim with desire.

He swallowed. “It’s just how I feel, when you’re around.”

Ephrim’s face burned, his stomach sinking as Throndir fell still.

“Ephrim…” said Throndir slowly.

Ephrim looked up. Throndir’s eyes were wide, the flush on cheeks a deep lavender.

“Why didn’t you ever say?”

Ephrim pressed his lips together. “At the beginning, things were so strained, so chaotic, we both had so much to do… and then things got less terrible, but somehow there was even  _ more  _ to do, for both of us, and I- I couldn’t ask that of you, to give up your time when I can barely give up mine enough to have this conversation.”

He moved to turn away but Thronder caught his wrists.

“I’d gladly take any time you have,” said Throndir, his voice so serious that it made Ephrim’s throat ache.

Throndir leant forward and Ephrim met him half-way, the kiss deepening quickly. Ephrim sunk into it, tangling his hand in Throndir’s hair. Throndir gasped, walking Ephrim back until his legs hit the desk, sliding his thigh in between Ephrim’s legs.

The heat returned, in a more powerful wave than before. Ephrim clutched at Throndir’s shoulder, gasping as Throndir ducked his head to bite a kiss under Ephrim’s jaw. Ephrim grabbed Throndir’s shirt, hauling him back up into a kiss. Throndir followed his motion, using the momentum to lean forwards until Ephrim’s back was flat against the table, the papers shifting under him.

Throndir broke off, breathing heavily. “Sorry, I- your work-”

Ephrim tore his gaze away from Throndir’s lips to meet his eyes. The urgency of his work felt more distant to him than it had in years, replaced by the need to kiss Throndir again and to keep kissing him.

He swallowed. “It’s fine, I- it can wait- Throndir-”

Throndir pressed forwards to kiss him and Ephrim melted under his touch. Throndir’s hands felt so cool on his overheated skin as they mapped across Ephrim’s rib cage, his chest. Ephrim sighed, arching into Throndir’s touch, his fingers clumsily working at the fastening of Throndir’s pants. Throndir shifted, giving him easier access to slide a hand inside, moaning as Ephrim ran his fingers over him, feeling the wetness that had already soaked through the fabric of Throndir’s underwear.

Ephrim bit at Throndir’s lip, his fingers sliding along Throndir’s opening. Throndir moaning again, his hips rolling against Ephrim’s hand and he clumsily reached for the fastenings of Ephrim’s pants.

“You don’t have to-”

Throndir cut him off with a kiss. “I  _ want _ to. Unless you don’t-”

“No,” said Ephrim quickly, “No, I do so much-”

It was a few clumsy moments before Throndir was touching him again. If Ephrim had been in a more rational state of mind, he would have suggested that they sneak down the hall to Ephrim’s bedroom, or at least make use of the small couch in his office. In the moment though, the idea of asking Throndir to stop touching him, the idea that Throndir would stop touching him was an impossible thought, after years of  _ wanting _ -

“Years?” said Throndir, “Really?”

“You must have had some inkling,” said Ephrim, panting.

“If I had, I would have done this much sooner,” said Throndir, “Like,  _ years  _ ago, Ephrim-”

Ephrim pulled him into a kiss, letting out a whine as Throndir slid another finger inside him. He copied the motion, feeling a jolt of heat through him at Throndir’s answering moan. He kept one hand on the back of Throndir’s neck, keeping him close even when they parted to gasp for breath. Throndir’s other hand was braced on the table next to Ephrim’s head, his sweat smearing yellow streaks through the pollen on the pages.

Throndir shifted, the angle for both of them hitting deeper. Ephrim shuddered, nails digging into Throndir’s skin in response. Throndir moaned, the sound of it close to Ephrim’s name.

“‘M close,” said Throndir, “Ephrim,  _ Ephrim _ , I-”

“Let go,” said Ephrim, “Let me feel you.”

Throndir came with a sob, clenching around Ephrim’s fingers. Ephrim was glad his weight was supported by the table underneath him, the sight of Throndir above him making his knees go weak. He withdrew his hand slowly, keeping the other on the back of Throndir’s neck as he brought his other hand between them, still slick with Throndir’s juices, to touch himself.

It didn’t take him long to follow Throndir over the edge, Throndir’s gaze pinning him to the table, fixing him in place as the rush of heat overtook him.

Throndir kissed him slowly as he came back to himself, feeling sweaty and overheated and deliciously boneless. He reached up, clumsily stroking a hand along Throndir’s cheek.

Throndir let out a shaky breath. “Gods.”

“Just a lord, actually.”

Throndir laughed, pressing his face into the crook of Ephrim’s neck for a moment, pressing a light kiss there. “I should let you get back to work.”

“Probably,” said Ephrim, tangling his hands in Throndir’s hair.

“You’re very busy,” mumbled Throndir against his skin, “Very important.”

“As are you,” said Ephrim, “I’m sure there’s many things that require your current attention.”

“I can’t think of anything more important than what has my attention right now,” said Throndir.

He kissed Ephrim again, his fingers stroking along Ephrim’s neck, leaving yellow streaks of pollen on Ephrim’s skin. Ephrim sighed, sitting up slightly, keeping Throndir pulled close.

“We should-” He let out a shuddering breath as Throndir nipped at a spot under his jaw. “The couch, Throndir.”

“Of course my lord,” said Throndir, easily sweeping Ephrim into his arms to carry him towards the couch.

Ephrim felt heat jolt through him, the intensity of it more than he would expect after so short a time. The thought left him mind as soon as Throndir sat on the couch, becoming concerned instead with ridding Throndir of his shirt.

“Ephrim,” said Ephrim, “I prefer my name in your mouth than any title I have ever had or will ever have.”

Throndir leant up, drawing him into a long, slow kiss. “Ephrim.” Another kiss. “Ephrim.” Another. “ _ Ephrim _ -”

Ephrim pressed him back against the worn cushion, revelling in the sound, letting the outside world slip away once again in the spring heat.

  
  
  


_ Fever-Tinged Dream _

The Spring wind carried the pollen further through the Last University, into the small room where Samot slept. Samot frowned, turning in his sleep until the blankets fell to the floor, giving some relief from the sudden heat.

In his dream, he wandered along a sweltering shore towards a grand house that gleamed in the morning sun. The beach was otherwise empty, a few tracks left by others acting as his guide, until the house loomed above him. He felt a trickle of sweat drip down his back and shuddered at the sensation.

Samot climbed the stone stairs that led to the house. The curling design around the doorway felt familiar, and he reached a hand out to run his fingers along the curved metal before he peered into the hallway. Compared to the morning sun, inside the house it was cool and dark.

“Hello?” called Samot.

There was no response, only the sound of rustling papers from a room towards the end of the hall. Samot followed the sound, pausing at the door. The curled designs decorated this doorway too, the metal shaped into little flames.

“Hello?” said Samot again.

The sound inside the room stopped. “Yes?”

Samot felt his heart rise to his throat, his hand frozen on the doorknob. That voice.

The door opened under his hand.

“Is there something I can-”

There, in front of him, was Samothes, looking as startled to see Samot as Samot felt to see him, looking the same as ever, or, no- his face held more lines than when they had seen each other last, his hair greying a little on the sides. His eyes though, his eyes were the same.

“Samot?”

Samot felt frozen in place, unable to tear his eyes away from Samothes. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. Samothes took half a step towards him, touching him lightly on the arm.

“This is a dream,” said Samot.

“If it is then I too am dreaming,” said Samothes, “Perhaps we both are.”

Slowly, Samot reached towards him, his fingertips touching the warm skin of Samothes’ face. Samothes’ breath hitched, his expression crumpling as he took half a step towards Samot. Samot met him half-way, pressing his face to Samothes’ chest.

“I think this is a dream,” said Samot, “but I am here, too.”

He tilted his head up to look at Samothes. Samothes pressed a kiss to his forehead, and Samot froze.

“I… We have much to speak about,” said Samothes, his arms sliding from around Samot’s waist. “Forgive me, I should not have assumed-”

Samot put his hands over Samothes’, stopping his retreat. “Please.” He swallowed. “There is so much I… If this is the only chance, there is much I would say, but I- please don’t stop.” He lifted a hand, resting it on Samothes’ chest, feeling the steady heartbeat under his palm. “I have missed this.”

“I am sure that you have others you could turn to for comforts such as these,” said Samothes, his voice too strained to hold the amused tone he was attempting.

“Of course,” said Samot, “But I… there are none who are quite like you.” He slid his hand up to cup Samothes’ cheek. “I have tried, and there are none.”

Samothes swallowed. “I… we should sit, perhaps.”

Samothes shut the door, guiding them both down to the plush couch that sat in a sunny corner of the room. Samot ran his hand along the rich fabric.

“I am surprised you have this here,” said Samot.

“I placed it here long after I moved, although I-” Samothes looked away. “I admit, after I did so it reminded me too much of you to use it or to have it taken away.”

Samot leaned towards him, resting his head on Samothes’ shoulder. Samothes slid an arm around his shoulders, and Samot relaxed into him, their bodies fitting together not as well as they once had, but well enough for comfort.

In Hieron, the breeze stilled. Samot wrinkled his nose, turning his face to the side as motes of pollen settled on his face. In Aubade, Samot only felt the heat it left behind, rushing through him, melding with the heat brought by Samothes’ arms around him. He felt a prickle on the back of his neck as he watched beads of sweat form along Samothes’ hairline.

“Do you always keep this world as hot as you did your forge?” asked Samot.

“I think this is your doing,” said Samothes, “the heat comes from ourselves, not the weather.”

Samot lifted his head to meet Samothes’ gaze. His eyes truly were the same as they always had been, the corners of them crinkling a little as he looked at Samot. Samot felt the heat rush along his body, propelling him upwards to press a kiss to Samothes’ lips.

He meant it to be short but the moment their lips touched he found himself compelled to linger, the heat in him building as Samothes opened under him, letting him deepen the kiss. He moved to straddle Samothes, letting out a small pleased sound as Samothes’ hands went to bracket his waist, steadying Samot as he began to move against him.

Samothes made a soft sound, pulling back slightly. Samot moved to follow him, grinning as Samothes surrendered to the kiss. He ran his hands down Samothes’ chest, quickly loosening his robe to slide his hands inside, revelling in the sensation of touching his husband once again. Samothes seemed to feel the same, his heart beating quickly under Samot’s hands as he pulled Samot closer to him.

“I have a bed,” said Samothes.

“Too far away.”

“You don’t know that,” said Samothes.

“If it’s not right here, it’s too far,” said Samot, “You-”

He let out a soft  _ oof _ as Samothes tipped him backwards, landing on a bed that had certainly not been there a moment ago, in an entirely different room.

“Still using your godly powers correctly I see,” said Samot.

“I admit I am a little out of practise for this particular maneuver,” said Samothes. He paused, allowing Samot to admire the flush on his cheeks, the way it spread down his chest. “I… if this is the only chance I get to-”

Samot put a finger to his lips. “I won’t allow it to be.”

Samothes took Samot’s hand, kissing it before he moved to lay beside Samot, running his hands along Samot’s body. Samot reached for him in turn, pushing the robe from Samothes’ shoulders. Samothes helped him to strip, reverently pressing kisses and light touches to each new inch of exposed skin. Heat ran through him, following the movement of Samothes’ hands on his body until Samot was shuddering from it, clutching at Samothes’ shoulders.

“Touch me,” said Samot.

Samothes followed his command, sliding a hand down Samot’s chest to touch him in earnest. Samot moaned, mouthing kisses across the broad planes of Samothes’ chest. He felt Samothes shudder, huffing a laugh as he drew him into a kiss.

“I haven’t even  _ touched _ you yet,” said Samot, “Has it really been so long?”

“Every moment without you by my side has felt as though it were a hundred years,” said Samothes, “Samot, please-”

Samot reached for his hands, pressing his wrists against the bed. Samothes stayed where Samot had placed him, shivering as Samot dragged a finger down Samothes’ chest, circling Samothes nipples before he slowly inched towards Samothes erection. He ran a finger along it, feeling a jolt of heat as Samothes jumped under his touch.

“ _ Samot _ ,” said Samothes, his voice cracking.

Samot leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Samothes lips, feeling lighter despite the heat than he had in years. “Do not worry so. You know I am merciful.”

He raised himself up, taking Samothes in hand and lowering himself down slowly. The sound of their moans echoed in the room, making Samot feel flushed and wild. He rode Samothes slowly, his eyes studying Samothes as much as he could bare - so much of it felt the same as it had, he could almost fool himself into thinking he had returned to the past. His vision blurred.

Samothes raised a hand, first brushing away tears from Samot’s cheeks, then raising himself up to kiss Samot, letting Samot set the pace for their bodies. The heat rose within him again, mirrored in Samothes, and he clutched at Samothes’ shoulder, feeling the waves inside him. He felt Samothes slide a hand between them, offering him extra friction and he moaned, breaking off their kiss to press his face to the crook of Samothes’ neck.

He felt Samothes press a kiss to the top of his head as he shattered, shuddering in Samothes arms. He felt Samothes’ muscles tense as he held himself back, his distraction allowing Samot to flip their positions.

“Let me help you,” said Samot, speeding his hips.

Samothes didn’t last long under him, flushed and arching, as beautiful as ever. The sight helped build the heat with him again and he brought his hand between then, his eyes fluttering closed at the sensation.

“Beautiful,” murmured Samothes.

Samot opened his eyes to see Samothes studying him, a deep flush on his cheeks. He felt Samothes twitch inside and couldn’t stop the small whimper that escaped him.

“How long do you suppose this dream will be?” said Samothes, reaching up to draw Samot into another kiss.

“At least a little longer,” said Samot.

A breeze blew in, scenting the sea air with spring.

  
  
  


_ Working In The Garden _

Hella knelt in the garden of the small shack Rix and Rowe had made their home, pulling up weeds (or, at least, she hoped they were weeds). There were other plants there, small vegetables and heavily-scented flowers and bulbs puking through the earth, and she wanted to clear the space for them.

Adaire told her not to bother, but she still came out with Hella, bringing her tea and small breads from the market, or sometimes just sitting with her, working on some small project or other in the shade while Hella dug her hands into the soil. Hella liked that, knowing that Adaire was close by, safe and keeping her safe, both of them watching over each other.

Hella pulled at a particularly stubborn vine, grimacing as it shed pollen into the air and then again at the cut it left across her palm. She pulled a cloth out of her pocket, wiping away the dirt. Adaire was by her side in an instant, her movements as quiet as ever, although Hella had long since learnt not to startle.

“I’ll get the kit,” said Adaire.

“It’s just a scratch,” said Hella.

Adaire had already stepped away, rummaging in her basket for a moment before drawing out her water bottle and a small tin box of her medical supplies. She motioned Hella forward and Hella followed, rolling her eyes a little at the fussing. Adaire settled back in her chair, giving Hella a look.

“I’m fine,” said Hella, ”It’s not deep or anything.”

“Still,” said Adaire. “Sit.”

Hella sighed, kneeling down next to Adaire and holding out her hand. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her other hand, hit with a wave of feeling gritty and overheated. Concern flickered over Adaire’s face.

“I’m fine,” said Hella again, “Really.”

“Okay,” said Adaire.

She took Hella’s hand daintily in her’s, carefully cleaning around the thing scratch. Hella felt her muscles relax, the tension of the day leaving her body the longer that Adaire’s small hands touched her’s. She watched Adaire as she worked, her face holding the kind of sharp focus that Hella usually felt flushed under. This was no exception, although she certainly was feeling it more than usual. She could feel the heat in her face spreading down her chest, beginning to trickle through the rest of her body.

“Hella?”

Adaire was frowning at her. She raised one of her hands, touching the back of her hand to Hella’s forehead.

“You feel very… warm.”

“I’ve been working,” said Hella.

“I know,” said Adaire, “I’ve been watching.”

Hella’s face  _ burned _ , something in her gut clenching as she noticed the flush building on Adaire’s cheeks.

She wet her lips. “Oh really?”

Adaire turned away. “You know I do, I’m always here-”

Hella reached out, touching Adaire’s knee. “Hey. I didn’t mean, like- it’s okay if you watch me, I- I like hanging out with you. I like that you’re here.”

Adaire looked down at Hella’s hand on her knee. Hella quickly drew it back, only for Adaire to catch it. Hella inhaled sharply, watching Adaire’s face as she waited for the other woman to speak.

“I-” Adaire pressed her lips together. “I like being here with you too, I… It feels… nice.”

She made a face and Hella laughed.

“It does,” said Hella, “It’s- I’m glad we can do this.”

She smiled at Adaire, feeling a little dizzy as Adaire smiled back. She squeezed Adaire’s hands and the heat seemed to pulse in her body in time with it, guiding her body as she brought Adaire’s hands to her lips, pressing a kiss to Adaire’s fingers, her palms, her wrists.

“Hella,” breathed Adaire.

Hella stilled, looking up at Adaire.

Adaire wet her lips. “You can… keep going. If you like.”

Hella did, the heat in her body building as she trailed kisses up Adaire’s body to her chest, her neck, her face-

Adaire tugged her forward, their lips meeting roughly at first before they sank into each other. She felt as though Adaire’s hands were everywhere at once, skimming along her sides, in her hair, teasing over her breasts. Hella whined, clutching at Adaire, shuffling forward until she was kneeling in between Adaire’s thighs.

It felt as though it was the most natural thing in the world for her to duck her head, lifting Adaire’s skirts to press kisses there too, the scent of the spring flowers around them mixing with Adaire. She pressed the heel of her hand roughly to the front of her breeches, nipping at the sensitive skin of Adaire’s thighs.

Above her, Adaire gave a muffled moan, her hands tangling in Hella’s short hair and tugging Hella where she wanted her. Hella followed her lead, mouthing over Adaire through the thin fabric of her undergarments. As she found a particularly sensitive spot, Adaire’s hands jerked in her hair and Hella moaned. Adaire’s thighs tensed around her, shaking.

Hella slid a hand inside her pants, her other on Adaire’s thigh, holding her steady as Adaire’s hips began to roll against Hella’s mouth. Above her, Adaire’s breathing turned ragged, and she clutched at Hella’s shoulder, her fingers digging in, the point of contact another spike of heat on Hella’s body.

She could feel Adaire begin to get close and rushed to meet her, the sensation of Adaire around her enough even without her hand. She pressed forwards, redoubling her efforts, and felt Adaire begin to shudder.

“ _ Hella _ ,” said Adaire, “Hella, I-”

Hella didn’t stop until Adaire’s shaking slowed, leaning back to look up at Adaire’s face. She was flushed, strands of hair escaping from her careful braids. Adaire’s gaze drifted down Hella’s body, and Hella felt herself burn again.

Adaire leant forward, kissing herself from Hella’s lips. “Don’t stop on my account.”

Hella groaned, not so much kissing Adaire as breathing against her mouth, wanting to be touching as much of her as possible as she worked herself. Adaire made a pleased humming noise, stroking over Hella’s shoulders, her arms, her face, the sound soft and intimate as Hella tipped over the edge.

Hella bent forward as she got her breath back, leaning her forehead against Adaire’s knee. Adaire stroked steadily along Hella’s back, comforting and warm on her spine.

“Well,” said Adaire, a little unsteadily, “That was certainly… something.”

Hella looked up, studying Adaire’s face. “A good something though, right?”

Adaire’s expression softened. “Yes.”

Hella bit her lip for a moment, leaning forward to kiss Adaire again. This kiss was slower, both of them leaning into it until Hella guided Adaire down beside her, the both of them leaning against the cool bark of the tree behind them as they kissed.

A breeze blew through the garden, bringing with it the heavy scent of flowers again. Hella leant back.

“I should probably get back to work.”

“Okay,” said Adaire, leaning forward to kiss her again.

“I mean it,” said Hella, in between kisses, “Didn’t you want me to clear that side today?”

“I do,” said Adaire, kissing her again.

Her hand toyed with the fastening on Hella’s breeches, already loosened from earlier. Hella felt herself flush again, the heat spreading faster the second time around.

“Well, okay,” said Hella, “Maybe I’ll- Just like five minutes-”

“Sure,” said Adaire, “Five minutes.”

“Okay,” said Hella again.

Time stretched, in the garden, only the sun above them marking the passing of hours.

  
  
  


_ Tangled In Vines _

“Come  _ on _ ,” said Fero, “it’s this way!”

“Will you just  _ wait _ ?” said Lem.

Fero groaned. “You’re making this take  _ forever _ .”

“I am not,” said Lem.

“You so are,” said Fero.

“No I’m not!”

“You are so!”

“I’m-” Lem huffed. “I am not going to engage in this petty argument.”

“You  _ would _ say that,” said Fero, “Because you know you’re losing it.”

“I was  _ not _ -” Lem made a face.

Fero laughed, the anger gone from his face. “We’re almost there, it’s just a bit further.”

Lem sighed, long suffering, adjusting the pack on his shoulders. It wasn’t that heavy, since the only thing in it as the present moment was empty containers, ready for them to store the berries in, berries that Fero had been saying were close for what felt like an interminably long time.

Fero ran ahead, disappearing for a moment in the shrubs before he reappeared, tugging Lem forward a few paces and holding out his arms.

“Ta da!”

There was a small cluster of bushes, heavy with berries and flowers, their scent thick in the air. Lem looked at them critically.

“And you’re sure they’re safe to eat?”

“Of course!” said Fero, “I ate a bunch when I was here the other week.”

Lem set his pack down, pulling out the containers. Fero took one, beginning to fill it with berries, his finger quickly stained purple and yellow from the berries and flowers. Lem’s hands were quickly covered in the same stains as he worked. Despite the shade of the trees overhead, Lem quickly felt warm enough to shed his coat, rolling up his sleeves and wiping at his forehead with the back of his hand.

He sighed, stretching his back, Fero’s stillness catching his attention. “What?”

Fero swallowed. “Nothing, you’ve just, uh. You got some of the juice on your face.”

Lem frowned. “I do?”

“Yeah,” said Fero, “Oh your…”

He gestured to his own forehead. Lem wiped at it again, and Fero laughed, stepping towards him.

“Here, I’ll get it.” Fero made a face. “Can you stop being so tall for a second?”

“No?”

“No, I mean, bend down,” said Fero, “Unless you want me to climb up.”

Lem felt his face flush, looking away as he knelt down. Fero made a face, tilting Lem’s face towards him and using the bottom of Lem’s shirt to wipe at Lem’s face, bracing his other hand on Lem’ shoulder for balance. This also meant that for a moment Lem’s entire vision was Fero’s bare chest. He watched a trickle of sweat move down Fero’s body, swallowing hard at the heat such a sight brought to his face.

“There,” said Fero, “That’s- hey, you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” said Lem quickly, “Just a little warm, you know. Spring weather.”

“Yeah,” said Fero.

Lem felt Fero’s hand fidget on his shoulder, heat crackling down his body from the point of contact. He swallowed, trying to stop it from showing on his face. From Fero’s concerned expression, he wasn’t very successful.

“Maybe we should take a break?” said Lem.

“Sure,” said Fero.

He didn’t step back, his hand on Lem’s shoulder twitching again, his fingers clutching at Lem’s shirt for a fraction of a second before they relaxed. Heat sparked through Lem again and he curled his toes in his shoes. It wasn’t as though this was a new reaction to Fero, exactly, but it was certainly more… it was stronger than he was used to, harder to ignore as he usually did. He was probably just unused to being alone with Fero after so long apart that he’d forgotten what it felt like.

“We should, uh. We should do that,” said Fero.

Lem blinked, focussing for the first time on Fero’s expression. Fero’s cheeks were as flushed as his felt, his body tilted towards Lem. Fero pressed his lips together, drawing Lem’s attention to his mouth and the small fleck of berry juice from where he’d obviously been eating them earlier.

Feeling as though he were in a dream, Lem lifted a hand, wiping at the juice on Fero’s face away with his thumb. Under his touch, Fero went very still.

“You, uh,” said Lem, “you had some on you, too.”

“Thanks,” said Fero, his voice rough.

“You’re, um. You’re welcome.”

The silence between them stretched, the heat of the day making it hard for Lem to breathe let alone concentrate on something that wasn’t Fero’s hand on his shoulder, and his own fingers, warm from where they’d touched Fero’d skin.

Fero wet his lips. “Um. So. Now you have juice on you again though.”

Lem blinked. “Oh, I’ll um. I’ll just wipe it off-”

Fero caught his hand. Lem stuttered to a stop, holding his breath as Fero lifted Lem’s thumb to his lips, delicately licking the tiny droplet of juice there. Lem held himself very still, waiting, his thumb still inches from Fero’s mouth. Fero met his gaze, slowly and deliberately sucking Lem’s thumb into his mouth.

Lem groaned, the heat of Fero’s mouth flooding through his body. He felt Fero curl his tongue around Lem’s thumb, bobbing his head obcernely before he drew back, grinning up at Lem.

Heat propelled him forward, sending them both to the ground, Lem’s arms bracketing either side of Fero’s face. Fero studied him for a moment, wriggling a little. Lem whined as Fero moved against him, feeling himself harden against Fero’s thighs. Fero grinned again, his face triumphant, and so there was nothing for Lem to do, of course, but kiss him.

Fero gasped, his hands immediately tangling in Lem’s hair and keeping him pressed close. Lem shifted, holding himself up by one elbow as his other slid down Fero’s body. In his mind, his fingers followed the path the drop of sweat had taken along Fero’s chest, teasing along the waistband of Fero’s pants.

Fero let go of his hair, quickly wriggling out of his clothes. Lem pulled back slightly.

“Fero, we’re in  _ public _ -”

“We’re in the forest,” said Fero, “Besides, no one comes out this far, that’s why there’s still berries out here.”

“So you admit you  _ did  _ make me walk a long way-”

Fero pulled him down into a kiss, pulling back after a moment to grin up at him. “Wow, that’s way better, why didn’t we solve arguments this way before?”

“We did not solve any-”

Fero kissed him again, the kiss deepening until Fero was rolling his hips against Lem, as much as he could with Lem’s weight pinning him down. He whined, breaking off to bite a line of kisses down Lem’s throat.

“You’re right,” gasped Lem, “We should have done this ages ago, this is much better.”

Fero looked up at him, face flushed and lip swollen. “I can’t believe you just admitted I was right.”

“Well,” huffed Lem, “That’s- it’s a good idea- oh,  _ oh _ ,  _ Fero _ -”

Fero’s hands were working at his belts to get at the fastening of his pants, only pausing to let Lem strip his shirt off. Lem watched him, his face screwed up in concentration, the pink flush of his face spreading down his chest and stomach. Lem traces his fingers along it, teasing over Fero and feeling a jolt of heat at the way Fero shivered, his fingers slipping over the buttons of Lem’s pants.

“Here,” said Lem, undoing the last few notches.

“I had it,” said Fero.

“I’m sure you did,” said Lem.

“I did,” said Fero, smiling too much for the pout he attempted to really work.

He pulled Lem out, running his hands over him, his touch mind-numbingly light. Lem rolled his hips, feeling the heat right down into the core of him. Fero nuzzled his face, coaxing him into a kiss, distracting him as he guided Lem into him.

They both moaned, losing themselves to the rhythm of it. Distantly Lem could hear himself babbling, all the things he’d never said, as though the heat in his body was forcing out all the small moments, as though it ever could. Fero cupped the back of his head, guiding him into a kiss.

“Me too,” said Fero, “I’m- me too.”

Lem’s throat felt tight, and he kissed Fero again, focussing on drawing the small, sweet sounds from Fero’s throat. Fero clutched at his arm, his hips losing rhythm and his eyes fluttering shut as his body arched against Lem.

He flopped, boneless, onto the forest floor, his eyes heavy-lidded as he looked up at Lem. Lem traced his eyes over Fero, drinking him in as he thrust, spilling into Fero with a moan. Fero stroked his hands along Lem’s body, humming tunelessly.

Lem mouthed a kiss on Fero’s chest, his neck, then his lips, lingering there until he felt Fero’s hands tangle in his hair.

“We have to-” Lem gasped, feeling Fero flex around him. “The berries, I- we-”

“They’re not going anywhere,” said Fero, grinning up at him.

“Neither are we,” said Lem, “We can’t just-”

He broke off with a groan, irritation fading under the new heat. Fero’s fingers sparked against his skin, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

“Fine,” said Lem.

“Wow,” said Fero, “I can’t believe you admitted I was right  _ twice _ .”

“Don’t push it,” said Lem, pressing him down into the soft grass once again.

  
  
  


_ An Epilogue, of sorts _

Arrell lay beside him, sleeping deeply, his arms curled around Alyosha. The work called to him, still, but there was time enough. The Spring would make its way upwards, healing Hieron from the inside, making it into a better world.

Alyosha settled in Arrell’s arms, letting his eyes fall shut, joining Arrell in sleep, at last.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins on most places


End file.
